


just another house to burn

by firewoodfigs



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Crack, Edward sparkling Elric, F/M, Gen, HAPPY OCTOBER 3RD FOLKS, Humor, Ling tries to make fetch happen. it doesn’t, Mustang tries to impress Hawkeye with his hair pushed back. he fails spectacularly, Riza Hawkeye is disappointed but not surprised™, and happy halloween in advance :D, chaotic energies abound, he got the golden eyes to blend with a certain vampire family ykwim, is this a fic or a meme? i’m not too sure at this point, one time Riza Hawkeye left Roy Mustang alone in a haunted house. it was aWEsome, or more accurately, winry & al: get in losers. we’re going to a haunted house, wow that's a legit tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firewoodfigs/pseuds/firewoodfigs
Summary: In which a bunch of idiots spend a night in a haunted house, and Ed-level chaos ensues. Also features Ling wearing a cowboy hat, along with a bunch of exasperated women who cannot be bothered with their useless counterparts. (Except Mei, because Al is an evil, conniving little jerk.)
Relationships: Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric, Edward Elric & Ling Yao, Edward Elric & Roy Mustang, Edward Elric/Winry Rockbell, Lan Fan/Ling Yao, Mei Chan | May Chang/Alphonse Elric, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	just another house to burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RainFlame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainFlame/gifts).



> For Rain, who requested a fic where Ling shows up in a cowboy hat. Turns out, what was supposed to be a ~500 words drabble spiralled out of control, and this is the end product of all the memes we've exchanged. 😆

**~x~**

Edward Elric was having a very bad day. 

Well, maybe not so much bad, as much as abysmal. 

It was Halloween. And as if all the disgusting festivities and niceties of the season weren’t enough, children were brimming with excitement. Children. Icky little children with snot dripping from their pudgy noses and dirt-crusted nails, who couldn't seem to stop asking  _ him _ for silly favours that ranged from turning water into lemonade (what was he, a miracle worker?) or resurrecting their dolls and robots (they weren’t even alive to begin with, for goodness’ sake). 

But children were jerks, and he'd ended up being labelled  _ useless  _ a grand total of twenty times that day. Simply because he couldn’t fix up whatever stupid decorations they wanted or mend their broken toys. 

… Like he said, children were jerks. And how rude, really, calling a nationwide hero like him useless after he’d gone and saved them all from an early demise? Useless was an adjective strictly reserved for a certain alchemist who could only cringe helplessly in the rain, thank you very much. 

Certainly not him. 

Ed also didn’t see what the point of Halloween was. Dressing up as mythological creatures to grovel for candy at people’s doorsteps didn’t sound particularly appealing to him. Neither did collecting and carving pumpkins into stupid caricatures and lanterns. The worst was voluntarily paying good money just to get scared shitless at haunted houses by people pretending to be zombies or ghosts or General Olivier Armstrong (regrettably, the last one was the most terrifying of them all). 

In the end, he only gave treats to children who came knocking because Winry had threatened to dismantle his remaining automail leg if he didn’t. 

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t take delight in scaring them a little. 

Just a bit, of course. What? He had every right to. A ll the pestering and begging was driving him nuts. He couldn’t fathom what it’d be like to have children one day. To start a family with Win – wait, what? No, scratch that thought. Nope. That’d be putting the cart before the horse, considering they weren’t even married yet. Besides, Winry would skin him alive and feed him to the cows if she’d even caught him  _ thinking  _ about such a thing. The last time he’d nearly stumbled upon her shirtless… Well. 

It hadn’t gone well. 

(He'd just wanted a nice place to eat his sandwich, was all. Really.)

As if his day couldn’t get any worse, though, Al had made it a point to send out invitations for the annual Halloween Party that was due to happen tonight. That meant Ed didn’t have a choice; he’d basically been coerced by Winry and Al to partake in the celebrations… or something. 

It’d be fun, Al said. Fun. 

A party. In a haunted house. 

Right. 

Ed didn’t know what was so fun about walking through a haunted house while losing a few years of his life in the process. And for all his pretense of being an angel, Al seemed to have an uncanny ability of coming up with the most diabolical schemes ever known to mankind. It was almost as if Al took some sort of strange, sadistic delight in watching his one and only brother suffer. 

Maybe he should’ve left him behind at the Gate, after all… 

“Ed!” Winry yelled from the kitchen.

“What?” he grunted back, already not liking where this was going. 

“Could you get the door? I’m busy here,” she called. 

Ed sighed and trudged reluctantly towards the door. He really, really didn’t want to do this. But someone was knocking, alright. Very loudly, notwithstanding the fact that he’d been deliberately (and persistently) trying to ignore it. He already had a good guess as to who was waiting outside; Al had made sure that he was well-acquainted with the guest list, after all. 

But n othing could have prepared him for the sheer horror of witnessing Ling dressed as a  _ cowboy _ . 

A cowboy, of all things.

And to top it all off, Ling was letting out shrill  _ yeehaws  _ every two seconds like a broken recorder. Like that toy, from the story about toys. 

“Yeehaw,” Ling tried again, as Ed was not responding by this point. 

Ed wondered if he was still on earth, or if he’d already gone and descended to hell. Did they give out cowboy hats in hell? Oh, what terrible fashion sense. He should probably have a talk to whoever was in charge here and give suggestions for a major revamp instead –

“I think he’s gone into shock,” said Mustang. 

Thankfully, he looked pretty sane. Relative to Ling, anyway. Despite the insanity of the entire event, he was still dressed in his standard military blues. Which was still gross, yes, but at this point Ed would take anything. He was just grateful Mustang hadn’t yeehawd at him yet. Even though it seemed more befitting for him, considering… 

“Hello, Ed,” Hawkeye greeted. 

It was enough to jolt him out of his reverie. Like some kind of weird spell, his arm automatically lifted itself up into a half-formal salute. (Such was the effect Riza Hawkeye tended to have on people, and Ed was no exception to her magic.)

“H-hello,” Ed greeted back. Mustang guffawed obnoxiously, and he immediately reverted back to his normal self. “Hello to you too, bastard,” he grumbled. “And Ling – what the hell is up with that get-up?” 

And Ling, well, Ling had the audacity to look personally affronted. “Hey,” he began, looking strangely like one of those idiot kids denied candy, “It took us a great amount of effort to get this costume, you know. Look at how  _ fetch _ it is -” 

“I don’t care,” Ed interrupted crassly. What the hell did fetch mean, anyway? The last time he’d checked, 'fetch' was a verb.  Not an adjective. 

Maybe it was code for disgusting. 

“Alright, suit yourself. I’m wearing this to the haunted house later,” Ling declared. Beside him, Lan Fan’s lips twitched ever so slightly. Whether in annoyance or amusement, Ed wasn’t sure. 

But one thing was for sure: the day was about to get from bad to worse. 

Ed groaned once more, planting his face into his hands, which were rough and calloused from doing all the crap that he’d been tasked by Winry to do. Just so that they could make the house presentable to their guests. 

Guests whom, in his opinion, were terribly unwelcome.

… Maybe he should’ve just let Father destroy everything and everyone instead. 

**~x~**

“Here we are,” Winry chirped as she brandished the tickets in front of them. Al and Mei stood beside her, beaming. 

Ed shot his little brother a warning look, but it went completely ignored. (Apparently having a girlfriend had the unfortunate effect of exacerbating whatever inherent evil lay within him. Something about a partner in crime, or whatever it was the townsfolk babbled on about.) Though his smile was radiant, Ed could already tell that he was up to no good. It was the expression he always wore whenever he was about to throw Ed under the bus when the both of them were getting grilled by their mighty terror of a teacher. 

Right. He’d been through worse. Walking through a haunted house was nothing in comparison to the hell he'd endured on a faraway island. 

He could do this. 

“Scared, Fullmetal?” Mustang teased. 

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “I’m just worried that you’ll end up immolating one of the actors inside when  _ you  _ get scared.” 

“Please,” Mustang snorted. “Haunted houses are for  _ babies. _ ” 

Hawkeye bit back a laugh, but otherwise didn’t divulge anything else. 

Dang, Ed thought. He was really hoping to get some dirt on that bastard. Who better to ask than his most trusted aide, right? 

“I hope there aren’t any clowns inside,” Ling complained softly from behind him. Lan Fan gave him a patronising nod, and Ed had to marvel at her infinite patience. How did she put up with this utter nitwit on a daily basis without throwing up blood? “I’m not a huge fan of them.” 

“Funny you say that, considering you’re one yourself,” Ed muttered. 

“What did you say?” Lan Fan asked defensively. Ling merely continued to fiddle with his hat, as if he hadn’t heard anything. 

“I didn’t say anything -” 

“Stop delaying the inevitable, brother. It’s our turn!” Al called cheerily. 

Ed cursed under his breath. At times like these, he really,  _ really  _ detested his baby brother. Along with everyone else in the universe. Maybe except Winry, who somehow still managed to look stunning despite her ridiculous get-up. And Hawkeye, who was really the only sane one amongst the whole entourage.

“Time for all of us to change into proper costumes befitting of the season,” Winry declared, clapping with all the enthusiasm of a baby seal. Before Ed could even form a protest, she added, “And that includes  _ you,  _ Ed. Your wardrobe might be horrifying enough by normal human standards, but it’s just gross. Not spooky.” 

Ed gawked, feeling betrayed. Mustang chortled raucously. Hawkeye laughed softly for the briefest moments, but schooled her expression immediately once she caught sight of Ed’s ostensible dismay. 

“It’s not that bad, Ed,” she cajoled. “I think Winry just wants us to be… well, appropriately dressed for the season.” 

Wait. Why was Hawkeye, of all people, supporting Winry’s harebrained scheme? Forget what he said earlier about her being the only sane one amongst them. 

(It was just him. Him alone against the world.)

Still, he hadn’t the heart to say no to her. 

“Alright,” Ed conceded glumly. “Let’s just hurry up and get this over and done with.” 

In what universe were people required to dress up to enter haunted houses, anyway? Weren’t the actors the one who were getting paid to suffer in their stuffy, silly little costumes? 

But Winry made the rules, or so she claimed. And because he didn't want to risk having his plans for the future ruined, Ed obliged. 

Begrudgingly. 

(It was just his luck that he had to fall for a gearhead who was, for all intents and purposes, certifiably insane.)

Soon enough, the rest of them - save for Winry (who’d come as a demented fairy of sorts), Ling (who’d insisted on wearing his ridiculous cowboy garb even after Lan Fan’s countless looks of disgust and disapproval), and Al and Mei (who’d come in matching zombie costumes with a talisman on their foreheads, in true Xingese fashion) - were forcefully shoved into outfits that were apparently fit for the season, and - 

Oh, god. 

No way. 

Mustang was fortunate enough to get the fire-breathing dragon costume, while Hawkeye was decked in an armor of sorts. (Ed thought this was fitting, considering the fact that Hawkeye was literally his knight in shining armor. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times she’d saved his sorry ass. The useless jerk would probably have already been dead without her.) Lan Fan was dressed up as a cowgirl, unsurprisingly, to match Ling. The only exception was that the typical whip had been replaced with her signature nunchaku. 

But Ed? 

Ed was a vampire. 

A bloody  _ vampire.  _

What was he supposed to do now, sparkle in the sunlight and live for a hundred years? He had no desire to live for that long, especially if he was going to be surrounded by a bunch of idiots for the rest of his life. And just because the creepy deuteragonist of Winry’s new favourite romance novel was named after him did not make it okay. 

Nope. 

This was definitely  _ not  _ okay. 

“Winry,” he said through gritted teeth. “This is not _ spooky _ ,” he said, gesturing to his outrageously fake fang-like teeth and sparkly cape that was supposed to act as a second layer of skin. “I look as though Cinderella’s fairy godmother tried to transform me into a prince and failed miserably.” 

“It’s not that bad,” Winry pouted. “You have the golden eyes to match, too -” 

“ _ Please, _ ” he groaned. “Don’t compare me to that sparkly man.” 

“Well, Fullmetal. You look…” 

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ complete that sentence, bastard, or I’ll make sure to bury you beneath this wretched haunted house,” Ed snarled, shaking a fist that was suspiciously shimmery. (As a result of Winry’s meticulous nature, not a single inch of his skin - his beautiful, marvelous skin - untainted with glitter.) 

Mustang laughed so hard, his tail nearly fell off. 

“Sir, please,” Hawkeye admonished. “You’re going to spoil the costume and ruin all of Winry’s hard work.” 

“Right, sorry,” he responded, gracing them all with a deceptively sheepish smile through the teeth encasing his head. Clearing his throat, he instead asked huskily, “Does my hair look sexy pushed back, Captain?” 

Hawkeye remained unimpressed. “No.” 

Mustang deflated visibly, looking like a dragon-shaped balloon on its last legs. Winry giggled, and Ed rolled his eyes. She probably thought they were cute or something. But they weren’t. Not when that bastard was in the equation, anyway. Mustang was just irritating and gross, and Hawkeye deserved better than some pompous pufferfish who didn’t know what a hairbrush was. 

“Aww, brother, you look great,” Al cooed. 

Ed blanched. Oh, he was going to make Al pay for this - 

“Alright, let’s get going!” Winry and Mei exclaimed, sealing his fate and effectively ceasing all thoughts of revenge. 

For now, at least.

Now if only there was a way he could offer Ling as a sacrifice… 

**~x~**

“Watch your head,” the lady dressed in a grim reaper’s costume said monotonously. 

“Remind me why we’re here again?” 

“Stop whining, brother. Let’s go,” Al chuckled and dragged him in as if he was a sack of potatoes inside. 

The loose floorboards creaked ominously beneath them. Al smiled, as if it was all music to his ears. 

“I hate you,” Ed groaned. 

“You’re still as mean as ever,” Mei pointed out. 

Ed snorted. “You’re just disillusioned by Al’s charms. But he’s a devil, let me tell you -” 

“You’re the only devil here,” she retorted. 

Ed screeched indignantly, raising another shiny fist coated in pixie dust, or whatever it was Winry used. 

Winry didn’t bother defending him. 

“I love you too, brother,” and Al sealed the door shut before Ed could even think of turning back. 

As with most haunted houses, the insides were poorly lit. A lone, green lamp hung precariously from the ceiling, illuminating the hideouts of zombies and vampires (the ones that actually looked  _ creepy,  _ not sparkly), werewolves and skeletons and ghosts and whatever it was ordinary people deemed scary. 

But it wasn’t scary to him. The great Edward Elric, scared of ghosts? No way. 

Of course not. 

But in the surrounding darkness, the glitter splattered on Ed’s skin shone brightly, making him the perfect target. Ed grimaced as he brushed off a crumply finger that had fallen on his shoulder.

“Damn it. We’ve only been here for less than a minute,” he cursed. 

Al only smiled beatifically at him. 

That conniving little  _ jerk _ . 

Al and Winry probably knew this would happen. And they’d probably conspired together to create this atrocious outfit for him, too.

Well. 

Time to put his plan into action, then. 

Ed peeled off a layer of iridescent skin while Winry and Lan Fan were busy checking out a cage of bloodied pixies dancing together (much to his disgust, they looked insultingly happy, like they were having the time of their lives), and quickly stuck it on top of Ling’s hat when he wasn’t looking. 

“What was that?” Ling asked, scanning around for any signs of danger. 

“Nothing. Just a little souvenir,” Ed grinned triumphantly and ambled forward, whistling. He hadn’t encountered any jump scares yet, but this wasn’t the time to get complacent. 

So Ed made sure to lodge himself securely in between Mustang and Hawkeye, who were arguably the two most dangerous patrons in their little group. After all, who’d be absurd enough to scare some of the most well-known soldiers in the whole of Amestris, right? 

Wrong. 

As the three of them passed by a seemingly innocent-looking toilet bowl, a giant cockroach, one that reminded Ed of Kimblee with its disgusting, oversized antennas, scampered out towards them. 

“What the hell?!” Ed yelped and jumped backwards, nearly knocking Hawkeye over in the process. 

Hawkeye simply shrugged, unfazed. 

“What on earth is  _ that  _ thing, Captain?!” Mustang yelled, digging through his pockets for a glove panickedly as the enormous cockroach towered over him in the darkness. “And where are my gloves?” 

“I had to confiscate them, sir,” Hawkeye answered drily as she waved a lingering antenna away. Terrified, the cockroach scampered back into its safe, hiding corner and waited for its next victim. “Can’t have citizens suing its government for incinerating people to ash because he got all  _ scared  _ in a haunted house, can we?” 

“Bu-but… it’s a giant cockroach -” 

“It’s a  _ person,  _ sir. In a costume,” she deadpanned. 

“She’s right,” Ed pointed out. 

Mustang scoffed, though he was still shaking. “Don’t come acting all brave now, Ed. It came after us in the first place because you wedged your sparkly, attention-seeking self in between us.” 

“Yeah? Who was the one trying to burn them up, huh?!” Ed shouted back, flailing his arms and drawing a greater deal of attention to themselves in the process. 

Another piercing shriek resounded throughout the crummy room. Footsteps echoed, closer and closer. In the tenebrous, he could vaguely make out the faintest glimmer of a tacky, golden star on a hat that was shaped like an inverted dome - 

It was Ling. And he was barreling towards the both of them, with a deranged-looking clown with tomato sauce leaking all over his lips hot on his tails. In his right hand was a juggling club that glowed in the dark eerily, but with the way Ling was screeching it might as well have been a sword. 

Ed screamed as another clown materialised beside him and tugged at his braid. 

“What the  _ hell? _ Where are all these clowns coming from?” 

Mustang nearly punched them (Ed, and the clown) in the face. 

“Calm down, sir,” Hawkeye sighed. “Please do try to confine your uselessness to rainy days -” 

“I’m not useless!” Mustang cried indignantly. 

Suddenly her teeth flashed, a string of pearly whites in the ominous darkness around them. 

“Really?” Hawkeye’s tone was suspiciously defiant. 

Ed would’ve stayed to watch the duel unfold, but self-preservation came first. So he ran, hoping the clown would go bother Mustang instead. Or Hawkeye. That would be an excellent choice - 

But he had no such luck. 

“Of course,” Mustang declared, puffing his chest out proudly once the clown had diverted all its attention to Ed. 

Around him, the two clowns circled after Ed and Ling relentlessly, who were now debating the consequences of homicide. Life imprisonment wasn’t too bad, right? For starters, there was an endless supply of free food in jail. And getting locked up inside a stuffy, dusty cell also meant they wouldn’t have to worry about trifles like paying rent and utilities for the rest of their lives. 

Yeah. It wasn’t too bad, come to think of it.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Fullmetal,” Mustang shouted over the racket. 

“Hypocrite!” Ed yelled back, leaving a trail of dust and glitter and pasty cobwebs behind him as he scurried around like a gopher in search of a safe spot. 

Again, he had no such luck. 

Like a scene from a horror movie, a throng of clowns appeared out of nowhere, grinning maliciously in their grotesque, frilly outfits that looked like it’d been put together by a five-year-old. (Or by Al, who apparently had a horrendous fashion sense according to Ed.) 

Ed and Ling fled for their lives. 

“Stop following me, Ling!” 

“You’re the one who’s following me!” 

Hawkeye sighed again. 

“Well, if you say so,” Hawkeye said at last, once the two children were a considerable distance away. Her amusement at the chaos unfolding around them, though, was obvious even in the dark. Mirth danced in her golden eyes, and her lips tugged upwards into a devious smirk. 

One that spelt trouble. 

Mustang gulped. 

This didn’t bode well. 

“What?” 

“Shall we reconvene at the exit, then?” she asked, already starting to increase her pace. 

Was she planning to leave him all alone, now? 

“Captain,” he called weakly. “I thought you said you’d follow even me into hell.” 

“This is a far cry from hell, sir. What happened to the brave commanding officer we all know and love and  _ respect _ ?” 

Oh, bloody hell. 

Mustang couldn’t believe that his subordinate was resorting to  _ this,  _ but this left him with two choices.  One, he could grovel after Hawkeye and beg her to stay, and risk throwing his reputation down the drain if word ever got out (and it would, because Fullmetal was an incorrigible blabbermouth). 

Two, he could suck it up, and prove to her that he was indeed the brave, valiant soldier who everyone knew and loved and  _ respected.  _ Who was capable of handling this. 

Alone. 

“Alright, Captain,” he said. Conviction held his voice steady, and he clenched his hands into tight fists to withhold any hints that his bravado was but a shoddily-constructed facade. “I’ll meet you at the end. You go ahead and… have fun. Take care, I mean -” 

“ _ You  _ take care, sir. I’ll be fine,” and she was immediately off like a light. 

How cruel. 

It was a pity the armour that Hawkeye donned was the vintage, unpolished kind that didn’t fare well in the dark. Once she was a few steps away, it became increasingly difficult to go after Hawkeye, and he was left to deal with the consequences of his choice. 

_ Alone.  _

Mustang swallowed his fears and tried to think of happy things. Like Hawkeye. Waiting for him at the end of the haunted house. The light at the end of the tunnel. 

He could do this. No, he _would_ do this. 

For her. And for his pride. 

(If only he’d known what lay ahead of him, Mustang might’ve swallowed his ego instead, after all.)

**~x~**

It had taken Ed, Ling and Mustang a grand total of approximately three hours to finally get out of the haunted house. 

The girls and Al, on the other hand, had taken roughly twenty minutes.  Without a single strand of hair out of place. 

Waiting was boring. So they’d decided to have another go at the haunted house in the end. (By that point they’d already befriended all the actors inside, so conspiring with them to amplify the useless trio’s fears was a piece of cake.)

Their plan worked like a charm.

Not a single one of The Three Idiots - the name bequeathed upon the screaming assemblage, by way of unanimous agreement - had even figured out it was them, for they were far too busy bickering and pushing the blame on each other. (Hawkeye had been mildly disappointed, but hardly surprised to find that Mustang had all the maturity of a five-year-old when it came to dealing with a haunted house.)

It’d been entertaining at first. Hilarious, actually. Their expressions were priceless, and their stupidity was endless. The Three Idiots were frightened at the smallest things - even the simple act of prodding Ling’s hat with a branch was enough to send all of them collectively jumping and begging for mercy - and they were constantly huddled together like a pack of chickens seeking comfort from a cold, icy storm. 

But the mess of tangled limbs and incoherent screeching quickly got boring after awhile. Not to mention deafening. (Hawkeye hadn’t known that Mustang had such a wide vocal range, or that Ed and Ling possessed the lungs of an infant denied milk.) 

So they left after two rounds of disturbing The Three Idiots and waited outside, indulging in a gooey, orangey dessert made up of pumpkins and an unhealthy amount of chocolate f or two whole hours. 

Two hours. 

One hundred and twenty minutes. 

Seven thousand and two hundred  _ seconds.  _

Which, if one thought about it, was a lot of time to exchange embarrassing stories of each others’ partners. 

And so the girls did just that, bonding over the boys’ stupidity. The folly of man, or whatever it was called. 

Winry started out by regaling them with tales of how Ed had once mistaken a neighbour’s scarecrow for a living person. Perhaps unsurprisingly, he’d ended up getting into a full-blown fist-fight for an hour. Hawkeye said that something similar had happened when Mustang was younger, except it’d been with an uncooperative chicken who was adamant on not becoming his dinner. And Lan Fan complained about how embarrassing their entire trip had gone. Ling had been insistent on finding the perfect costume (she’d thrown hers into the dwindling campfire set up by the other villagers by this point, as had Hawkeye), and had even gone so far as to yeehaw in the desert every ten steps, as if it were a magic spell that could conjure the perfect cowboy hat that he’d been so desperately on the hunt for. All because he wanted to make  _ fetch _ happen. Whatever that meant.

Meanwhile, Al and Mei sat in a corner to admire the multitude of stars above them, cackling maniacally to themselves whenever they heard a shout or a scream. 

Especially when it came from Ed. 

When The Three Idiots came out at last, the campfire had already died out. Mustang looked like a drowned cat, though his tail was miraculously still intact. Hawkeye had congratulated him for that (and for getting out alive), but he looked torn between plotting revenge and spiraling into a sobbing mess. Ling did the latter. Without missing a beat, he ran to Lan Fan’s side and began wailing dramatically about how cruel Ed was, offering him as a sacrifice to all the passing creatures of the night to save himself. Lan Fan merely offered a sympathetic nod, but was already planning Ed’s demise. 

And as expected, Ed’s costume was completely torn to shreds.

“Ed!” Winry exclaimed. “Why’d you do that? I was hoping to recycle the costume for next year -” 

“We are  _ not  _ doing this again next year,” he bit back. Furious as he was, though, Ed at least looked overjoyed that he was no longer sparkling like a string of diamonds on display.

“So… did you have fun, brother?” Al asked. 

With admirable self-restraint, Ed managed to refrain from socking him in the face. 

He’d save his energy for later. 

“No. But I’m sure I’ll have a lot of fun burning the haunted house down with Mustang later.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Tempted as I am to end this in true 2010 ffn style for bonus points, I probably shouldn't. Hats off to you if you managed to read all the way to the end and tolerate my lame attempt at humour 😆 
> 
> But in all seriousness, this is my first time ever writing a crack fic, and I tried to include as many characters from FMA as I possibly could in the spirit of October 3rd (in hindsight I should've probably included Team Mustang too, but lbr Mustang would really die inside). I'd love to hear what you thought and really appreciate feedback of any sort. Please leave a comment if you have the time! <3 (Or you can [say hi on Tumblr if you're there](http://firewoodfigs.tumblr.com) and we can celebrate October 3rd together 😆) 
> 
> ALRIGHT back to writing more angst/romance. Have a good day everyone and don't forget 3.10 <3


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